


I Must Confess, I Still Believe

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2958119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an interruption in Feuilly's Saturday morning routine, but he finds he doesn't mind in the least.</p><p>Or in which Feuilly finds a new friend in Cosette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Must Confess, I Still Believe

I Must Confess, I Still Believe

They are few things Feuilly enjoys more than quiet mornings with his dog. His dog, being one of those things of course, along with his friends, his job on the occasion it’s not giving him a headache which has been happening lately, school with the same exceptions as his job, sure.

But there is very little besides what his in the aforementioned list, which gives him joy like these quiet mornings, walking his dog through the park. He lives in a college town and next week is finals week so the park has less people than normal, which says a lot because Saturday mornings in the park or normally pretty sparse to begin with. Feuilly likes it better this way, because as much as he loves people, he adores his alone time as well. Something he rarely gets with work, school and Les Amis, all things he wouldn’t give up a minute of, but he wouldn’t mind a few more minutes in the day if it meant he could get some much revered time alone.

He uses the time to walk, sit on a bench, gather his thoughts, and with the recent addition to his household- play fetch with Lola.

Tapping his pocket and smiling, Feuilly glances down at Lola to see her sit down quickly and obediently, her tail wagging anxiously waiting for him to throw it across the park. Lola is actually the reason he began this ‘Saturday morning in the park’ routine. He adopted her about a year ago but wanted to socialize her but not overwhelm her, so he started taking her to the park on Saturday mornings, when there’s very few people but she still gets the experience of other animals and people. It’s been a routine for about as long as he’s had her.

Smiling, Feuilly tosses the ball and she bounds after it, clumsily but happily and Feuilly laughs heartily as he watches her narrowly avoid skidding into a tree in her excitement.

“Cute dog,” someone comments, and Feuilly nearly leaps out of his skin before smiling at the girl.

He knows Lola isn’t the prettiest of dogs, when he’d seen her in the shelter she was three years old, with patches of fur missing and terrible dental health. She’s since gained weight, fur and his teeth are a lot better but even with all of that she rarely gets complimented by strangers the way other dogs would. Feuilly’s never minded, it’s not like Lola knows or cares and she’s the center or his universe regardless.

Still, the compliment makes Feuilly beam.

“Thank you.”

 

He feels like he should add something on to that, but he’s never been very good at small talk especially with strangers and he’s not sure what would be awkward: starting a conversation with her after a simple compliment (not even to mean but to his dog) or not.

 

Feuilly chooses not to, and he instead turns his attention back to Lola who has come bounding back with the slobber soaked ball. He grabs the ball unflinchingly, and tosses the ball again, wiping his hand on his pants afterwards.

 

“I used to love playing fetch with my dog. Mornings were always the best time for it too, not too many people, but you’re not completely alone either.”

 

 

“Exactly why we love it, she gets to play but isn’t overwhelmed by anything.”

 

He glances back at the girl, having been watching Lola wrestle a bush for possession of her precious ball, and notes she currently doesn’t have a dog with her.

 

“So you come here often?”

 

 “Every Saturday almost. How about you?”

 

“I used to have the same schedule, but my boyfriend got our dog in the breakup. I still come out here sometimes, but it can be a bit intimidating going places alone.”

 

He nods sympathetically, but there isn’t much he can say. He’s not a woman after all, and while he didn’t have the greatest of childhoods, there are many things he didn’t have to worry about by the simple fact he was a male.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” he chooses, because he’s almost positive he has to say something even if it’s not much.

 

She shrugs, “He wasn’t the greatest boyfriend anyways. I do miss Lucky though, he still sends me pictures so that’s something.”

 

Part of Feuilly wants to point out that he meant he was sorry that she felt intimidated going places alone than the breakup part, but thinks better of it. Dogs seem a safer territory anyways.

 

“Do you have any with you?”

 

The girl, and Feuilly mentally chastises himself because he still hasn’t got her name, smiles and nods, pulling out her phone and closing some of the distance between them so they’re almost shoulder to shoulder.

 

She scrolls through her photos as Feuilly looks over her shoulder to get a look.

 

“But first,” she says, her smile now a smirk, pulls the phone away and glances up at him, “I’m going to need your name.”

 

Laughing, and feeling relief because he really felt he should have gotten her own name earlier, he introduces himself and she turns the gesture by shaking his hand and telling him her name is Camille.

 

“Now that the introductions are over, pictures!”

 

She’s so excited that Feuilly can’t help but smile himself, and when she goes to show him the pictures of Lucky again, she presses shoulder against his.

 

“That really is a gorgeous dog,” Feuilly says and feels a bit guilty because the dog is a good looking dog but the entire time he was just thinking of how Lola was so much prettier (he can hear Joly laughing now because he warned Feuilly that all pet parents get like this at times).

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

And now Feuilly feels awkward because with Les Amis lulls in conversation are never really a problem but with completely strangers he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Apparently Camille is feeling the same because she’s fiddling with her phone and glancing back and forth between it and him. He glances to Lola, as if for guidance, but she’s preoccupied with a squirrel in a tree and he feels unfathomably betrayed.

 

“Feuilly! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

 

He jumps at the sound of the name, and with surprise as he recognizes the voice immediately. He turns to see Cosette sitting on a bench waving and smiling at him, which was odd because they weren’t incredibly close.

 

Feuilly often found people like Cosette, as kind and sweet as she was, intimidating. He just didn’t understand people who seemed so naturally and effortlessly confident and gregarious. It’s part of why his close friendship with Enjolras still astounds him at times.

 

Turning back to Camille, Feuilly realizes he’s not alone in this feeling as she seems to be looking at Cosette nervously, as if Cosette caught her doing something wrong.

 

He begins to apologize and explain but she just waves him off with a kind smile and all but runs away, reminding him of Lola after her ball. Except in this case ‘the ball’ is ‘as far away from Feuilly as possible. Feuilly can’t blame her really, even though she’s smiling and waving Cosette is very pretty and that can be intimidating.

 

He recalls wanting to write poetry about how attractive Jehan was when they first met and he neither writes poetry nor feels sexual attraction.

 

Still, he’s never quite felt the need to run away from someone because of that.

 

Slightly bewildered, Feuilly heads over towards Cosette, who’s still smiling and pats the spot next to her as he nears. Up close he notes her eyes are slightly puffy, but he knows they’re not close enough for him to comment or ask questions.

 

 

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I had a feeling you two weren’t exactly on the same page in that conversation.”

 

 

“She wanted to show me pictures of her dog, and thought Lola was pretty,” he smiles at the reminder and looks up as Lola starts to run back towards him. She doesn’t have her ball anymore, likely lost in the chaos of chasing the squirrel but he doesn’t mind, they’re usually covered in slobber and nearly unusable in the rare event she does bring the ball back at the end of their time at the park.

 

 Cosette snorts and Feuilly jerks to look at her, slightly offended.

 

“Oh no! I’m not laughing at that part! Lola is gorgeous but Feuilly . . . that girl wasn’t interested in showing you dog pictures.”

 

It immediately clicks and Feuilly feels his cheeks warm with a blush and he’s so glad for his dark skin that will (hopefully) hide it.

 

“Oh,” he shifts uncomfortably and Cosette immediately puts a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

 

“I just . . . Marius told me how those type of things can make you uncomfortable and it definitely looked like she was hitting on you, so I tried to intervene,” Cosette trailed off, looking as unsure as Feuilly had ever seen her, and she let her hand fall off his shoulder.

 

Feuilly, much more tactile than even he realized at times, found he felt sad when she did so.

“I’m sorry, Feuilly. I wanted to help.” Cosette finished, looking away and Feuilly immediately realized that the puffy eyes were from crying and not lack of sleep.

 

“No, you did. I just didn’t realize. . . I’m not very good at that type of thing. I’m uncomfortable because of that, not for you helping me. Thank you Cosette, genuinely.”

 

 

 

He places a hand on her shoulder, hoping it will comfort her the way it comforted him. Instead he thinks it feels stilted and awkward, and he briefly wonders how people like Courfeyrac, Enjolras and obviously Cosette are so good at these tactile gestures.

 

“Thank you,” Cosette replies, after Feuilly abruptly drops his hands, her eyes are still puffy but her smile is nothing but genuine.

 

He wants to ask her about it, but they aren’t particularly close. Again, he’s always been intimidated by people like her, who are naturally likable and always seem to know what to say, so he’s never really made an effort. And he’s always been rather quiet and to himself, so she’s never really seemed to notice him in return.

 

Still, he knows her father passed away about two months ago and they were incredibly close, and while he admittedly doesn’t know a lot about her (or that kind of loss, not really) he knows she doesn’t have very many other people in her life, as affable and likeable as she is.

 

“I didn’t know you came here,” Feuilly begins, feeling awkward in the quiet.

 

Quiet is normally where he finds solitude, but it’s not so in this situation, like the hand-on-the-shoulder gesture, it just feels uncomfortable.

 

“I don’t, not normally but . . . I got in a fight with Marius and wanted to be alone. Marius mentioned you come here sometimes to do that.”

 

Feuilly raises a brow, surprised Marius knows that about him, however he’s not at all surprised by Marius’ suggestion. Marius respects Cosette as much as he loves her and despite his own aversion to romantic relationships for himself, he loves that about them.

 

They are without a doubt, one of the most ridiculously in love and ridiculously healthy couples he’s ever seen.

 

“That was very nice of him,” he replies, again not quite sure what to say in this conversation.

 

Cosette snorts at that, and before Feuilly can ask himself what was even slightly funny about what he said, Lola (bless her, at times Feuilly swears she can sense his discomfort and comes to his rescue-and _yes_ occasionally she makes it worse but she does try and that’s what counts) jogs over, not even trying to hide her confusion over who Feuilly is with.

 

Feuilly knows if it weren’t for the squirrel Camille would have been subject to the same treatment, but he’s a bit glad for Lola’s timing as well he was certain this conversation felt as awkward for her as it was for him.

 

“So, I’m guessing this is Lola?” Cosette asked, sticking out a hand for Lola to sniff skeptically.

 

Feuilly nodded, as always a sense of pride welling up in him. He really was overly sentimental where it concerned her.

 

“She can be a bit skittish,” and like a defiant teenager Lola chooses that moment to all but leap into Cosette’s lap.

 

Unprepared and even more embarrassed than before, Feuilly grabbed Lola immediately and dragged her away, reluctantly slipping the leash from his pocket and onto her as she pitifully struggles against him.

 

“Oh she’s fine, she probably smells Crookshanks on me.”

 

“Crookshanks?” Feuilly asks, head snapping up as he’s gotten Lola to sit (though she’s still wagging her tail anxiously and looking longingly at Cosette).

 

Feuilly thinks Grantaire may have been onto something when in one of his rants he compared her to a Disney princess.

 

“Marius’s cat . . . Courfeyrac was involved in the naming process.”

 

“I think it’d be worse if Courfeyrac wasn’t involved honestly, you should have heard him when he found out what Marius wore on your first date together.”

 

Laughing, Cosette shook her head.

 

“I was there for some of the aftermath, but I can’t even imagine what he was like when he found out.”

 

Finding he couldn’t help but laugh as well, Feuilly shook his head with some exasperation.

 

“I think he burned the outfit.”

 

“There seems to be a concerning pattern with Courfeyrac and fire.”

 

“It’s either a series of coincidences or a series of events which require extensive planning on Courfeyrac’s part.”

 

Both make sense where Courfeyrac is concerned.

 

Feuilly knows there is more conversation to be had here, as Courfeyrac is both Cosette’s good friend and his own, but Cosette appears to be content for the conversation to end there.

 

Now Feuilly just needs a way to excuse himself without making these uncomfortable again.

 

“So I guess. . . I mean, I should probably. . . maybe be going . . .”

 

Nailed it.

 

Even with his dark skin Feuilly is positive he’s the color of a tomato and tries to flee as quickly as possible but a hand wraps around his wrist and Lola, the traitor, makes no move to go with him.

 

“Wait, please don’t go.”

 

Feuilly sits down immediately, still red-faced and not looking at Cosette.

 

“I mean, go if you want of course. I just . . . don’t really have anyone else to talk to and I know Marius is your friend so I’m not.”

 

“You’re my friend to,” Feuilly interrupts, his own face cooling down and before today he never really considered Cosette his friend but hearing himself say it he knows it to be true.

 

Cosette looks as surprised as Feuilly feels.

 

“You are. I don’t talk to you a lot because I don’t talk to a lot of people a lot but you are one of the kindest people I know.”

 

She truly is one of the best people Feuilly has ever had the pleasure of encountering, and that’s a hard thing to do considering all of his friends are incredibly good people. It’s why Feuilly has difficulty processing that Cosette doesn’t have anyone else to talk with, but he has no problem being there for a friend.

 

“So if you want to talk, or just sit together, I’m here for you.”

 

Cosette blinks, again still looking taken aback but her eyes are brighter already and Feuilly knows he’s done the right thing.

 

She doesn’t say anything though, and Feuilly is content to sit there in comfortable silence for as long as she needs him to do so.

 

Lola seems content to do this as well, sprawling out across their feet, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sun. Feuilly closes his eyes and does the same, waiting for Cosette to speak when she’s ready, if at all.

 

“We almost never fight.”

 

It’s been almost ten minutes (probably less than that but in his relaxed state it didn’t seem long at all) and Feuilly slowly opens his eyes to turn and look at Cosette, who is staring at her bare feet, rubbing Lola’s head which Lola is enjoying immensely.

 

“With his childhood, he hates it. I think I’ve only heard him raise his voice a handful of times. And with Papa, well he just never yelled, not once. I think the closest time was when I ran across a busy street without him and even then it really wasn’t yelling and he hugged me and bought me ice cream afterwards because he felt so bad.”

 

Feuilly can see her smile at this memory, but the corner of her mouth twitches a bit, like part of her wants to cry even if the memory is a happy one.

 

“So we don’t argue a lot and I think he’s a bit frustrated with work and I’ve been dealing with . . . and things just snapped.”

 

He can tell there’s more to the story but Cosette’s voice has gone high pitched and he knows she’s probably struggling to find the right words, or to speak any words at all.

 

“I don’t know how to deal with this. Before Marius, Papa was all I had and I miss him so much and I’ve been pushing Marius away and he’s so hurt and I don’t want to hurt anyone but I just really miss him and I hate crying because it’s all I do lately and Feuilly I just want my dad back.”

 

Cosette’s now quietly sobbing, embarrassed but now to the point she’s going to hold anything back. Feuilly knows she’s had enough of doing that lately and now she’s probably just overwhelmed with it all. He’s never lost anyone like that, because he’s never really had a family until Les Amis, and even then, he hasn’t had them his whole life like Cosette had Valjean.

 

Feuilly is positive he’d have no idea what to do under normal circumstances, but with Cosette, Cosette who is strong, vibrant and good and fearless, breaking down beside him it’s almost instinctual.

 

 “I, uh, met your father once . . .  before you and Marius started dating that is.”

Cosette looks at him now, her eyes tear strained and cheeks puffy and even while crying there’s something strong and confident in her gaze. Feuilly admires that, he’s ashamed of the times he’s cried and no one was around but Cosette feels no shame in her tears.

 

It’s a strange time to realize that Feuilly has never understood Marius’s love for Cosette more.

 

“There was a- um, it was at a funeral.”

 

Feuilly feels his own throat start to close up because while he has never experienced the type of loss Cosette has, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t known loss at all.

 

The funeral was for a young girl whose parents were in and out of her life (mostly out) and she’d been turned into social services more times than Feuilly thought should be legally allowed before something was done.

 

(Nothing was ever done and the very thought makes Feuilly’s eyes burn with angry tears)

 

“Her parents didn’t have a lot of money and they couldn’t afford much, and I remember going to the funeral thinking nothing would be paid for and that little girl wouldn’t get the funeral she deserved.”

 

(What she really deserved was to die of old age, loved and cared for and not left alone and sickly and uncared for but Feuilly doesn’t want to get into that.)

 

He also remembers thinking he’d be the only one there. (Les Amis proved him wrong that day, all of them taking days off of work, shirking class and responsibilities just to be there for him even if he hadn’t talk them how badly he’d wanted someone there with him.)

 

“Your father paid for it all. She got a proper headstone and everything. I found out afterwards, it was supposed to be done anonymously but . . . well that’s not always the easiest thing to do.”

 

Cosette’s looking at him again with her eyes shining but her mouth is twitching into a wobbly smile and he knows he’s done the right thing. He had wanted to tell her when they’d first met, but it never felt like the right moment.

 

And then Valjean had passed away and he was sure there’d never be a right moment.

 

“I um . . . don’t quite know what that story was supposed to do . . . but I wanted you to know that your father is gone, but he was a great man. He was a man who changed lives and I know he wasn’t your biological father but I see a lot of that in you. So in a way, the best parts of him aren’t really gone . . . and I just want you to know that.”

 

A few more tears fall down Cosette’s face and Feuilly was scared he’d done the wrong thing and he should have never told her that story. Instead Cosette cups her face with her hands, wipes away the stray tears from her face and lunges at Feuilly a way that causes Lola to sit up, and engulfs him in a hug.

 

Slowly but surely, Feuilly returns the gesture.

 

“Thank you Feuilly. That is the kindest thing I think anyone has ever said to me.”

 

Feuilly seriously doubts that but he knows it’s an inappropriate thing to debate. The hug breaks apart when Lola barks at them and Feuilly laughs and leans down to pet her, surprised to find his own cheeks slightly wet.

 

Again, there’s a long moment of silence but it is not uncomfortable, not in the least. Even Lola, the bundle of energy she is, seems content to lie at their feet. Probably due to Cosette’s massaging her with her feet but it’s still a rare occurrence for Lola, who loves these Saturday park trips more than Feuilly.

 

“I should be going, Marius is probably fretting, and I’d hate to make him worry even more than I already have.”

 

“Are you sure?” Feuilly asks because, one it’s the polite thing to do and two he thinks someone should prioritize Cosette in this.

 

Cosette nods, smiling as she puts a hand on Feuilly’s outstretched one, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and then leaning down and scratching Lola behind her ears.

 

(Grantaire was right, the girl is definitely Disney royalty)

 

“Thank you Feuilly, genuinely.”

 

He just smiles and squeezes her hand in return, a silent “anytime.”

 

She’s nearly out of sight when Feuilly calls out her name and she turns around.

 

“We’re here every Saturday morning . . . if you ever need to talk or just . . . play fetch with Lola.”

 

The offer sounded much more eloquent in his head.

 

 

 

Cosette smiles, and if her relationship with Marius is any indication perhaps she finds awkwardness an endearing trait.

 

 

“I’ll even bring a toy for Lola!”

 

 

She waves once more and Feuilly watches her until she is out of sight, then Lola barks, demanding attention once more, and Feuilly gives in like the enabler he is, smiling and more content than he’s been in a while.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't lie, I know this isn't perfectly written. However, I'm aware that that is part of the point of fanfiction- getting better at this jazz. 
> 
> So feel free to point out my not so great characterization, overuse of commas, and awkward dialogue (and overuse of the word awkward) or maybe some really nice things. Who am I to tell you what to do? 
> 
> I do one day hope to get a reputation as at least a decent writer of Les Mis fic (or as the author who always uses Britney Spears songs/lyrics for her fic titles. both is good)


End file.
